Waitresses are Awesome
by CommChatter
Summary: Sometimes, waitresses are just plain awesome.


This came into being thanks to my family going to Golden Corral today, and it being my Dad's birthday.

Dedicated to Chanice because of her awesome singing.

Obviously, I don't own _Supernatural_.

*spn*

If Sam had known how crappy the roads were in New York in January, he might have begged off on their newest case. And gone some place warm, like Florida. Or Hawaii.

As it was, he found himself guiding the Impala through slushy, salty roads with occasional patches of black ice in the city of Rochester. He'd skidded through one four-way intersection before he remembered that with the Impala's weight, while wonderful when buffeted by high winds, he would have to slow down sooner before he hit an intersection.

Dean was slumped in the passenger seat, sleeping off the headache that the ghost had given him. He'd slept through the excitement of sliding through the intersection, for which Sam was thankful. Honestly, he was surprised Dean had trusted Sam to drive the newly restored Impala as soon as he had. Sam had expected to be banned for at least a year, if not more.

Sam's stomach rumbled as he stopped behind a Chevy Silverado at a red light. The First Niagara sign on the corner nearby claimed that it was 28 degrees Fahrenheit, (too damn cold, Dean had grumbled) and 10:30 pm, January twenty-fourth.

Sam froze. January twenty-fourth. Jess's birthday.

A sharp honk from behind him made him jump. Dean hardly twitched. The light had turned green without his noticing, and they were holding up traffic. Sam eased the Impala forward into the city proper.

January twenty-fourth was Dean's birthday, too. Sam had forgotten. And Dean being Dean, he probably remembered but hadn't said anything, figuring it wasn't important. The idjit.

Sighing to himself, Sam remembered the birthday card he'd found months earlier, still stashed in his laptop's case. If anything, it would make his brother laugh.

Following the line of cars (and really, what were all these people doing out so late on a Monday night?) Sam spotted the sign for a restaurant that he hadn't been to since he had left Stanford. Golden Corral. When Jess and Luis and several others had dragged him there, the restaurant had become a favorite. All you can eat buffet, with apple pie, which Sam had sampled in Dean's honor, not that anyone else knew that, and open twenty-four hours. _Perfect._

Making the turn carefully, (and really, how did these New Yorkers handle the ice and slush so well? They made him feel like an idiot, driving as well as they did) Sam took the parking space closest to the restaurant's front door. Killing the engine, he twisted and dug through his laptop's case to recover the card. Pulling out a pen, he scribbled a quick note inside before sealing it and stuffing the card in an inside pocket of his jacket.

"Dean." Dean's face twitched, but otherwise, he didn't respond. Sam rolled his eyes and poked his brother in the shoulder. "Dean."

Dean grumbled and shifted into a more comfortable position.

"_Dean!"_ Sam shouted, slapping his shoulder again.

Dean jumped awake, scrambling upright in his seat. "S'mmy? Whassit?"

Smirking slightly, Sam got out of the car and shut the door. "I'm hungry." And left it at that.

The sound of the Impala's passenger door slamming and Dean grumbling behind him made Sam smile.

"Couldn't have found a diner?" Dean asked, scowling at the door. As a rule, Dean didn't like chain restaurants.

Well, too bad. "Nope." Sam said, pushing the door open and stepping into the line. There was a line! At ten freakin' thirty at night! Noticing Dean's hesitation, Sam dangled the carrot he knew would always work. "They have pie, Dean. Apple pie."

Dean took a step forward and Sam saw the exact moment when the smells registered. "Wow. This place smells fantastic."

"Good." Sam handed Dean a cup and filled his own with iced tea. Dean made a face at his choice and got a coke.

One of the waitresses, a pretty African-American with curly black hair, her nametag identified her as _Chanice,_ led the brothers to a table in almost the exact center of the main room. Families with rowdy children seemed to surround the brothers on all sides.

"You can just go up whenever you're ready," Chanice told them, positively beaming at Dean, who vanished almost immediately.

Sam, however, had different ideas. "Excuse me, Chanice?"

The waitress, who had turned to leave, turned back. "Yes?"

Sam probably gave her his puppy dog eyes without meaning to. "Today's my brother's birthday and I was wondering…" he trailed off.

Chanice smiled. "We can sing to him. What's his name?"

Sam grinned. "Dean."

*spn*

Dean didn't seem to suspect a thing. He got back to the table the same time as Sam had, plate piled high with mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, corn on the cob, and steak. Sam was fairly sure his brother thought he'd died and gone to Heaven. Not that he would give voice to such an opinion.

Sam dug in to his Southern fried chicken and refused to think of yellow eyed demons and his father's last words.

"How did you find this place, Sammy?" Dean asked around a mouthful of potatoes. Or at least, that's what Sam thought he asked. It sounded more like: "Ow id ou ind is plce, S'mmy?"

Sam shrugged and took a sip of his tea before answering. "A group of us used to go to the one in Palo Alto sometimes."

To his credit, Dean didn't push. He just nodded and disappeared again, returning minutes later with another plate piled high with meatloaf, spaghetti, and pizza. By the time Sam got back with _his _second plate, Dean was working on his third helping of whatever he deemed artery clogging enough for his tastes.

Chanice reappeared when Dean came back with a slice of apple pie, blueberry pie, and vanilla ice cream. Sam opted for chocolate cake and ice cream.

Instead of taking their plates, Chanice clapped her hands. "Attention, please!" She called. All the surrounding tables went silent. "We have a birthday today!"

Sam snorted his drink out his nose as Dean turned a glare on him.

"Sam-"

Chanice interrupted Dean's impending tirade. "Happy birthday to you, happy biirrithdaay, to you, haappy biiirrthdaay, to you, happy birthday deeaar Deeaan, haappy biirrthdaay to youu!"

Dean was staring at Chanice. "Wow. That was awesome."

Chanice blushed and thanked him as Sam chuckled quietly, completely in agreement. Chanice _did_ have an awesome voice.

Dean stabbed a finger at him. "Awesome waitresses or not, you're not off the hook!"

Sam produced the card. "Happy birthday, Dean."

Still glaring, Dean ripped the envelope open and stared at the cover. It was a dog, smoking a pipe, riding a donkey. Sam watched Dean read the card, the glare vanishing in favor of a startled grin before his brother laughed. "'Don't let anyone ride your ass about getting old'? Really Sammy? I'm not even thirty yet!" Dean looked up and met his eyes. "Thanks man."

Sam shrugged, accepting the thank you, and grinned. "The look on your face when she started singing was worth it."

Dean glared. "Bitch."

Sam grinned. "Jerk."

*spn*

I am from New York, and the roads can get pretty crappy in January. And sliding through intersections is terrifying. Please let me know what you think!

-CommChatter


End file.
